Chapter 1
The day David Johnson’s “white moonlight,” Helena, returned to the country, he was in the
middle of celebrating my birthday. He had baked a cake himself–it looked a bit sloppy, and I couldn’t help but tease him, tugging his arm, “You can’t even tell if the two little figures on top are male or female!”
But David just stood there, staring intently at his phone screen, completely ignoring my
comment.
“David?” I called out, and he looked up, as if snapped out of a trance.
“Helena’s back,” he said. The moment I heard her name, my hand, which had been slicing
the cake, froze mid–air.
“I need to go out for a bit. I’ll be back tonight,” he said, grabbing his coat without a single
glance at me.
“But it’s my birth-” I reached out, trying to hold him back, only for David to harshly pull away. “Birthday? You’re not satisfied with just a cake?”
To David, a crooked cake was all I deserved. But for Helena Smith, every birthday, he would go above and beyond, choosing a gift months in advance and arranging for it to be specially delivered. Even though Helena was married, he never missed her birthday.
I watched David leave, his figure disappearing from sight. A sour ache surged within me, but there was nothing I could do to stop him. After he left, I sat alone, eating the cake. The sweetness of the frosting grew bitter with every bite. I finished my little cake figure, then threw the rest into the trash.
Night fell, and David still hadn’t/returned. The next morning, he staggered into the bedroom, reeking of alcohol. He yanked me up from the bed, looking irritated. “Where’s the hangover soup?”
I tried to explain, “I didn’t know when you’d be back, so I-”
David cut me off, annoyed. “Why didn’t you wait on the sofa? Don’t you love waiting up for
me?”
When He Wouldn’t Marry Me, His Friend Did
Chapter 1
I froze at his words. So, he knew all along that I had waited for him, night after night. I looked up at him, a flicker of hope in my voice. “Were you with Helena all night?”
“What’s it to you?” he sneered. “Don’t actually think you’re the lady of the Johnson house, do you?”
He continued, his tone laced with disdain. “You and your mother are nothing but lowly maids. I was already generous keeping you around this long. You actually dream of marrying me?”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing, couldn’t accept that it was coming from the man I had loved for ten years. My eyes stung as tears blurred my vision.
David scoffed at my tears, wearing a cold smile that seemed to pierce through everything. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s on your mind. You’ve always wanted to marry me and can’t stand having other women around. So calculating and jealous–you’re nowhere near Helena’s league.”
His words cut through me, leaving a deep, searing ache. I pointed to the insulated cup on the bedside table. Only then did David notice the hangover soup I’d prepared before I’d
gone to sleep.
“It should still be warm,” I murmured.
For a moment, something like surprise or guilt flickered in his eyes, but it vanished just as quickly.
“Hmph. I’m going to take a shower,” he said, his tone still cold.
I rubbed away my stubborn tears and lay back down. In the darkness shrouded by the curtains, I stared blankly at the ceiling’s outline.
To him, I was nothing but a lowly maid. So what did all these years by his side mean? Was it just my own misfortune?
